


On Longing and Other Contrite Bullshit

by sunshinewinchesters



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Island of the Dolls, M/M, Nightmares, Pining, Pining Shane, Shane Madej Is So Whipped, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, buzzfeed unsolved - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 06:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12647652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: All Shane can ever do is long for his ghost-fearing best friend, and apparently be angsty about it until something finally happens.





	On Longing and Other Contrite Bullshit

**Author's Note:**

> For durchinmultiverse on tumblr! Thank you for the absolutely beautiful art!!! <3

Whenever the longing hits him worst, Shane is always completely caught off guard.

It’s really been ruthless, surprise-attacking him nearly non-stop on their trip to visit the Island of the Dolls. Shane is no poet but Ryan is the personification of sunshine, or some sappy bullshit like that, and Shane feels like he’s been living in a place untouched by light his whole life. Ryan gets the biggest, most genuine smiles Shane has ever seen, and god, his laughter fills him with warmth that lingers well past when they part ways after filming. There’s an innocence to it, how he so freely gives off this warmth to everyone around him, everyone drawn in like a moth toward flame by his adorably exaggerated mannerisms and endearing fascination in everything anyone has to tell him. Or maybe it’s the sincerity with which he listens that makes people -- well, Shane at least -- feel comfortable spilling their guts. 

Whatever it is, Shane hadn’t realized how dark and cold his life was until he and Ryan went searching for ghosts and started shooting these videos together and Ryan just lit him up like a fucking Christmas tree every time they were even in the same goddamn room. 

So now here Shane is, addicted to this light, addicted to _Ryan_ , and now he’s just stuck pining just like the supposed spirits they hunt. Only he’s pining for Ryan, and the ghosts are pining for murderous revenge or a peaceful resting place or whatever it says in Ryan’s research files. 

Like he said: the longing just gets worse and worse and despite how it’s becoming an even more common occurrence, he’s always taken by surprise. Ryan grips the neck of his beer bottle in some busy, crowded bar near their hotel in Mexico City and traces the rim with his thumb while he throws his head back and laughs at something the bartender said. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, his laughter is unrepentant, and Shane’s chest burns with want. 

Ryan gets out of the shower in their shared hotel room and his hair is all wet and fucked to hell, and he’s wearing a pair of pajama bottoms that are a size too big for him. His eyes gleam fondly when he asks Shane which of the two twin beds he wants, and when he teases him about the blankets not being long enough to cover his feet, Shane is overcome with longing. Nothing specific, just for Ryan. He wants and he wants so fervently it hurts. 

It hits him again when Ryan buys him a little paper plate with something that smells enticingly of roasted meat and lime from a street cart the next day called barbacoa and demands he eat it immediately, enthusiastically finishing up his own. Shane’s heart contracts painfully and his throat is too thick with affection and the unspoken words he wishes he could say that would put an end to this pining. 

It’s been going on unrelentingly like this throughout the rest of their trip from that point on and now here they are on their flight back immediately after arriving in Mexico City. Shane was able to sleep through the drive from Xochimilco that night, but Ryan was still too spooked by their fun encounters with the beheaded dolls and big ass spiders of the island to actually get any rest. That had been the only opportunity for sleep up until their flight back to California, with the flight departure time just two hours after they arrived at the airport allowing for no down time. So while Shane is hanging in there pretty well, Ryan looks like he’s going to pass out at any minute as they shuffle down the narrow aisle on the plane in search of their side-by-side seats.

Ryan is so shaky when he tries to lift his suitcase into the overhead storage that Shane urges him to sit down while he takes over and loads their things in, too worried Ryan’s arms are going to give out from exhaustion or he’ll black out and brain himself with the heavy bag of camera equipment. It’s a testament to how tired his companion is when Ryan doesn’t even argue, just crawls over the first seat and collapses into the middle one with a heavy sigh that confirms Shane’s concerns. 

Shane awkwardly tries to step over Ryan’s feet while the seats and arm rests dig into his legs as he fights to make it over to the window seat and fold himself in. It’s a process, but by the time he’s made it with several probable bruises on his shins, the flight attendant is passing by to check the overhead luggage. The seatbelt signs turn on and Shane dutifully fastens himself in, and upon glancing at Ryan, whose closed eyes and lax posture suggest he’s already nearly asleep, Shane reaches over, stretches the seatbelt across Ryan’s lap, and buckles him in. Ryan doesn’t even move, and based on how many times Shane has fallen asleep to the steady in-out of Ryan’s breathing that’s indicative he’s completely conked out, Ryan has already surrendered to his sleep deprivation. 

After everyone settles in, the safety demonstration is given, and the announcements are made, the plane takes off. Ryan, who is normally a somewhat restless sleeper as Shane has learned during the few times he’s slept near him, doesn’t stir or even change the pace of his breathing throughout all of this. This is mildly concerning to Shane, who steadfastly keeps an eye on his friend for the next couple hours to make sure he is in fact still breathing. The two hours that goes by are very boring without Ryan conscious to keep him company, but Shane tries to keep himself entertained by reading the in-flight magazine and eating both his and Ryan’s cookies when the stewardess passes them out. Ryan continues to sleep like the dead, as does his neighbor occupying the aisle seat. The lights have been turned down and the window covers drawn, and it looks like most everyone at this point is dozing or fitfully napping. Shane sighs and checks the remaining flight time.

To pass the time Shane ends up dwelling on his longing, which really isn’t any sort of surprise at this point. Since Ryan and everyone else sitting near them is asleep, Shane doesn’t bother trying to make his glances at his companion discreet. In the back of his mind he knows it’s creepy to stare but he can’t help it, the want is burning deep and hot at his core, like a wildfire intent on devouring an entire forest. It’s not a wrong, filthy kind of want, either. It’s want in the purest form he’s ever known. He looks at Ryan, at the way sleep softens the lines of his face and amplifies the vulnerability he so confidently wears even during their nighttime treks through abandoned asylums and haunted houses, and he _aches_. 

Shane longs for Ryan in every way he’s never longed for anyone before. He wants to see Ryan’s face like this on the pillow right beside him, in a bed that they share, a bed that’s theirs. He wants to be the first one to see Ryan’s giant smiles every day, wants to be the one to make Ryan laugh until he can’t breathe, wants to be there to comfort and silently protect Ryan from all of his fears, not just the ones they encounter of ghosts and demons. Every time they’re out in some hell-hole or demon shack and Ryan is scared, or needs support, or reassurance and comfort, Shane always has to suppress his longing to give it to him, always opting for casual dismissals and at times close proximity. Shane longs for closeness, both physical and emotional, he longs to soak up all the warmth Ryan has to offer and longs to return as much of it as he can, because Ryan makes him want to give his friend the world and everything else on top of it. Shane longs and he wants and he aches so deeply that he knows there’s only one word that could capture it for what it is.

Ryan suddenly sucks in a deep breath that breaks off into choked whimpers, and Shane is instantly sitting up and searching for the cause of Ryan’s distress. He’s never heard him make those noises before, and when Ryan’s face contorts into a look of fear and pain, Shane becomes frantic. He must be having a nightmare, that’s the only explanation, and it must be a really bad one, because Ryan is shaking and he’s making these little sounds in the back of his throat that break Shane’s heart, he sounds so scared. 

Fuck longing. Fuck Shane suppressing what he’s wanted to and should have done all those other times Ryan has needed him like this. Fuck it all.

“Ryan,” Shane whispers, unlatching his seatbelt and leaning over his trembling friend. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe, it’s just a bad dream.” Shane tells him gently, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down Ryan’s back. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here,” he repeats, and slowly, Ryan stops shaking, leaning into the touch. The pained creases on his face smooth out and he mumbles something unintelligible, one hand fumbling for Shane. Shane doesn’t hesitate to slip his fingers through Ryan’s and hold his cold hand, giving it a soft squeeze before he keeps murmuring comforting nothings under his breath. The tension in Ryan’s muscles that Shane can feel with his hand on his back drains away and Ryan leans heavily against him, now completely limp and trusting and god does that make Shane’s heart ache so damn hard. He stays this way for ten minutes or so, eyes never leaving Ryan’s face, searching for any further signs of discomfort or fear, but the nightmare appears to have run its course, because Ryan is now sleeping peacefully slumped against Shane’s side. Ryan makes a little snuffling sound and tucks his face against Shane’s chest, and fucking hell, Shane’s heart melts into a puddle and for once the longing is sated.

With his free hand, Shane grabs his hoodie out from under his seat and spreads it over Ryan’s shoulders and back, then brushes his thumb over Ryan’s knuckles when he lets out a happy sigh at the added layer of warmth, or maybe it’s because even unconscious, Ryan can tell Shane is there and looking after him. A small smile turns up the corner of Shane’s mouth as he focuses on Ryan’s soft breathing against his chest; yeah, fuck this pining bullshit. 

It’s time Shane does something about the longing, for good.


End file.
